


Science Experiment

by Livingshroom



Category: Big Brother RPF
Genre: M/M, Zankie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:02:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3663150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livingshroom/pseuds/Livingshroom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing like some fanfic angst after all this drama?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

People assume when relationships end that there's an _explosion_. They envision that all the chemicals -the lust and the sex and the love- just boil over and combust. Maybe the problem is that they see us as some sort of experimental error born from a social experiment.

It kind of was.

I said that this was a science experiment. _Chemistry_? (My eyes could never have left the curve of your ass) _Biology_? (My heart speed up the second you walked into the room) _Phycology_? (Baby, you were always playing games with my mind)

So if this was experiment then what did we prove? That our fingertips seamlessly fit together? That even something so perfect could fall apart?

 _No_.

We were more than just chemistry, more than biology, and more than the poor sexually confused boy that fell in love with the gay boy. Oh, but go ahead and simplify and compress and force us into the vision that you created. I find it easier to think about it that way too. 

But what we had was more than just sweat and moans and fumbling in the darkness. What we had was more than whispered promises. More than anything they could ever understand. More than anything I understood.

There was no explosion. No last argument. No last word. No last goodbye. No screaming in the rain where I had to make some critical decision before everything burst before us. You sent me a neutral text about 'seeing other people,' and I agreed. You sent me a snapchat. I sent you one.

Friends. Just friends. Just like we wanted, right?

People assume when relationships end that there's an  _explosion_ . They envision that all the chemicals -the lust and the sex and the love- just boil over and combust. That wasn't us.

Maybe it was because we had fallen apart so many times that falling apart just came so naturally to us. We were so used to burning each other that we expected this time to be the same as all the others.

Instead, the distance slowly cooled the intensity of our passion. The separation allowed for us to cover our exposed hearts and build again. It allowed logic and sensibility to fill the places where passion had left cracks. I had to learn to rebuild, everyday you  slowly left my system until there was nothing left of your glitter and glamor; there was just a dull throbbing.

Not that I was that fucking articulate. I mostly just, ya know, smoked some weed. Played with Peyton. Ate chiptoles and listened to a couple songs.

We didn't rip the bandages off. That was our problem. We slowly peeled it away then put it back then peeled it away then put a little back then peeled away- but, wait, that metaphor isn't right. _Fuck_ , I can't even get my own monologue right. _FUCK_.

Because if I was peeling away a bandage then it means that you were a wound. No, you were always the remedy, but I got addicted to your anesthetic.  I kept craving you -still do- but you can't live life under that bittersweet influence.

Shit. You'd be proud of that sentence.You loved when it was 2am and my voice got low and sweet. There was nothing in my room but soft giggles as you promised to visit soon. ( _But when did any of our plans ever go through_?)

So I let myself burn, the cravings slowly fizzling to nothing, and held onto a life that was familiar. Like a fever dream, I let the sweat drip from me as I found my new antidote in the bottom of a bottle of beer.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Just enough so that your image burned to nothing.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Enough shots so that I could be cured of you.

_There was no explosion._

Why? Because you had already let me go so there was nothing to react. When I said 'goodbye,' your voice was distant. You had given up before I had. You had seen the nuclear accident waiting to happen, and you had already started to diffuse. Already disenaged. Already gone. All ready to disappear.

_There was no explosion._

 


	2. *Frankie's POV*

There _was_ an explosion.

Oh, Zach, why can’t you see that? Maybe not the kind of explosion that you were used to. You thought this ‘social experiment’ would end in tears and pain and screams. You thought that we would keep breaking apart and falling back together with that cursed catalyst - _passion_ \- making us react. An eternal energy flowing through us as we circled round and round again.

Hot.

Cold.

Hot.

Cold.

 _Enough_.

I had to give up chemical satisfaction for reality. You think that it didn’t hurt? You think that I enjoyed cleansing myself of your touches? You think I loved how I had to kill the hope we had created? You think I laughed when I burned away the remnants in hydrofluoric acid?

There was an explosion, and I was the one who triggered it.

Except, instead of adding fuel, I simply cut off the flow of oxygen. I gave you up all at once while you refused to let go. There could be no more buildup of expectations; no more ‘maybe’s or ‘winks’ or plans that fall through; no more promises of a future that was never ours.

 _Enough_.

The explosion was the softest of sighs as I deleted that picture of us from my background. The explosion was the kindest of voicemails or emails as I explained why I couldn't make it this time. The explosion was the distance between your voice and mine even as we stood right in front of one another but in between us was the sighs of a hundred nameless lovers.

No, maybe you were right before. That's a first. I’m halfway through this piece and I've changed my mind.

You see the change happened internally. One day turned into the next and everyday another heart string burst into a million pieces. It was a slow death, that stung and burned, but we both covered up the ruins with bandaged smiles.

This wasn't an _explosion_ but an _implosion_.

Our love collapsed in on itself from the pressure of the world. Inside the house (do you still remember?) we had room to breathe. Society squeezed the soft tissue and destroyed the purity until it was corrupted, and we weren't strong enough to push back. The bruises turned to sores and the sores became infected. I had no choice but to cut away this malignant malady that we had become.

You didn't want to give me up, but you stopped trying to push back. We were destroyed from the inside out.

So if you want to imagine that I pulled back first because it was easy for me than that’s fine. If you want to pretend that I had cut with steady hands than that’s fine.  You think that I detached too soon? Fine. You think that I let go too easily? _Fine_. 

You can hold onto that poisonous bitterness, but it won’t hurt me anymore. What do you think that holding onto pain will do? You don’t swallow poison and expect someone else to die.

There was an implosion.

Just because it’s over doesn't mean that what we had was nothing. We created a beautiful bond. An isotope. I don’t know what that means, but I have no other way to describe how we’ll always be inextricably linked. How there will always be a part of me that loves you no matter where this life will take us.

You’d snort and roll your eyes if you were reading this. Sick of my cliches and motivational ‘bullshit’. But that’s all I can give you of myself anymore.

I've got _callouses_ from all the other implosions or explosions or whatever we should call them. I've got _scars_ from all the other boys who have tried to carve their name in my skin with a caress. I've got years and years of practice of _falling apart_ and back together, but it’s never been this hard before.

I will forgive you.

But _I’ll never forget you, Zach._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such bittersweet endings <3

**Author's Note:**

> I self destruct just like Zach so it's easy to write from his point of view. I doubt he would be this eloquent. Should I write Frankie's response?


End file.
